


goal

by etselec



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etselec/pseuds/etselec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charles <i>is</i> that one parent that always goes a little overboard with the enthusiasm at his son's soccer game</p>
            </blockquote>





	goal

“Dad, stop making such a big deal out of this,” Peter complained, “it’s just a dumb soccer game.”

Charles leaned down to his six year old son and ran a brush through his silvery locks. “It’s not a dumb soccer game, Peter. It’s your _first_ soccer game and Daddy and I are very excited to see you in action!”

Peter groaned, shaking his head away from the brush. “I’m gonna go get my soccer ball.” He ducked his head down and left his bedroom.

Charles sighed, placing the brush on Peter’s dresser. He wiped his hands on his jeans and turned around only to find himself face to face with Erik. “Oh! Erik.”

“Where’s Peter?” Erik asked, towering over Charles.

“He went to find his soccer ball,” Charles replied, stepping forward.

Erik nodded. “Oh. Alright.” He spun around to the doorway but Charles grabbed his arm.

“Are you sure you want to come with to Peter’s football-- oh, I mean soccer-- game?”

Erik snorted. “Of course I want to go. It’s my own son’s soccer game.”

Charles let go and wrapped his arms around Erik’s neck to bring him closer. “It’s just... you look stressed.”

“I’m not stressed,” Erik tilted his head down so that his nose was almost touching Charles’s. He set his hands on his husband’s hips.

Charles let their lips meet. He laughed against his mouth. “It’ll be fine, trust me,” he assured, taking himself away from Erik.

“I never said -”

“Close Peter’s door on your way out,” Charles called from the hallway. “Peter! Put that down!”

\--

“Okay Peter, you got this,” Erik bent down and put his hands on his knees. Charles was finding a seat in the bleachers while Erik gave his son a pep talk. “You have to be quick to get the ball from the other team. Try to score a goal for us - it’s alright if you don’t,” he kneeled on the grass tuft and positioned his hands on Peter’s shoulders, “as long as you try your best, understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Peter nodded quickly and tucked his soccer ball under his arm. “Wait can you tell Dad not to, um, yell too loud?”

Erik chuckled, hoisting himself up from off of the ground. “He’s only trying to cheer you on.”

“Can you tell him to _not_ cheer me on?”

“I’ll try,” he clenched Peter’s shoulder one last time and smiled at him. He sprinted across the field to the bleachers.

Peter was right about Charles; he _was_ always that one parent that cheered their kid on a little too loud and it was rather annoying for both Peter _and_ Erik.

Before when Peter had shown an interest in basketball, Charles was all supporting for him which Erik thought had been fine, until they actually went to his first of (embarrassingly) many basketball games. Charles would whoop and holler at Peter and grip Erik’s jacket so tightly, he thought he might choke. Everyone would be staring at the both of them and mutter hateful things about them when they thought they weren’t listening.

“Erik over here!” Charles called from his place on the bleachers. He waved his hands up and down and patted a seat for Erik to sit down.

Erik took the seat and scooted closer to Charles so their sides were pressed against each other.

“You looked amazing out on the field,” he clutched Erik’s thigh, “wearing those jeans-- you ever play?”

“I played a bit in high school,” Erik removed Charles’s hand from his thigh, “now stop that, we’re here for Peter.”

A whistle blew from down below and the children were released and put into their positions on the field. Peter was on offense first.

Charles immediately stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Go Peter! Get the ball, you can do it!”

“Charles sit down -”

“Peter - PETER! COME ON, KEEP GOING!” Charles clapped and cheered and hollered. He screamed when Peter had the ball passed to him.

Erik, meanwhile, had given up and was burying his face in his hands. He said something under his breath and continued to look at the ground through the steps of the bleachers.

A little more than halfway through the game, Charles had sat down and looped his arm through Erik’s. “Stand up, Erik. Cheer Peter on.”

“I’m watching. _You’re_ the one who cheers him on.”

Charles frowned. “That’s quite unsupportive of you, Erik.”

“I’m not unsupportive, it’s just -”

Charles jolted up. “PETER, GO YOU GOT IT! TO THE LEFT, _LEFT!_ YES, YES - ERIK!” He started jumping up and down with his eyes wide and jaw hanging open. “Oh my God, he’s done it! He’s done it! He scored, Erik, he _scored!_ My boy scored a goal, a _goal!_ ”

“I saw, Charles,” he clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

Charles put his hands on his hips and scowled. “Then why aren’t you being more enthusiastic? Peter would like it better.”

Erik laughed and put a hand on his knee. “Oh, no, he would _not._ Definitely not.”

Charles gaped. “What are you saying?”

“When I was talking to Peter, he said that he finds it embarrassing when you cheer that loudly and rambunctiously,” Erik explained.

Charles plopped down next to him. “Really? Am I really… that loud?” Peter, far down below, scored another goal and Charles was already leaping up. “GREAT JOB, DARLING! I LOVE YOU AND I’M PROUD OF YOU!” He whipped his head around to see Erik shaking his head. “I’m not -”

Erik lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. He gestured around him.

All around Charles and Erik, people were staring at them blankly. Some of them looked disgusted, even. “Oh. Was I like this during basketball, too?”

Erik nodded just as the whistle blew, indicating that the game was over. “At least Peter’s done for today.”

“Yeah. We’ll have to congratulate him,” he took Erik’s hand and climbed down the bleacher steps and on to the field. Charles spotted Peter instantly and encased him into a hug. “Peter, I’m very, _very_ proud of you!”

“I heard,” Peter mumbled into his father’s chest. He ripped himself away from Charles’s arms.

Erik lifted Peter up into his arms. “Great job, son.” He grinned and ruffled his hair up before putting him back down.

“I scored _two_ goals, did you guys see that?” Peter asked, a huge smile plastered across his face.

Charles curved his arm around Erik’s waist. “I did, love.”

Erik grinned and coiled his arm around Charles’s shoulders. He kissed the top of Charles’s head and clasped Peter’s hand with his free hand.

“So, ice-cream celebration, then?” Erik smirked.

_“Erik!”_

“Yes!” Peter hurrahed, letting go of Erik’s hand and skipping in front of them. “Can we? Can we really?”

Charles sighed. “Fine, but this comes out of Daddy’s wallet.”

Erik scoffed. _“My_ wallet?”

“You suggested it.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Erik exhaled slowly, “alright then.”

Peter cheered as Charles nuzzled his head on Erik’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> based off of this tumblr post: http://emmaz0n.tumblr.com/post/86121073727/the-question-is-who-in-your-otp-is-the


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